The thing was I was supposed to have two strips done, one called convention in blue and the other called convention in blue too. Convention in Blue Too was full of fun stuff, like Paul Grist being shrunk by rays and Woodrow Phoenix's dancing shoes (I always wear my dancing shoes!) and Anna and Karen going gaga over tiny tech and that conversation we had about Kev Sutherland and John reading my fortune with Vertigo tarot decks and deciding to watch The Ballad of the Salt Sea (Corto Maltese animated!) and The Final Programme (Jerry Cornelius very wooden!) instead of schmoozing on Saturday night (even if we did fetch up schmoozing a teeny bit) and what a good idea that was and Pac Man graffiti and wondering if The Unfunny X-Men should have had a 12A rating and my muse! for god's sake turning up in the (secret) Commonwealth Museum cafe wearing white shoes. But I only got this one finished, which would be the one I scrawled on the back of the photocopies of our email conversations about what to say on the womens' panel while drinking gin and coffee outside Wetherspoons late on Sunday afternoon and feeling very, very sorry for myself, especially over acting like a complete berk talking to Chris Staros ("the man from Top Shelf"). Sorry about that. But hey, I'm using a different nib! Doesn't that make it all worth it?